Mój sąsiad rozbił zraszacze trawnikowe kijem golfowym, bo „woda zalewała jego nowy samochód” – nie zadzwoniłem na policję, ale wymyśliłem coś lepszego, żeby dać mu nauczkę

But for the first time, I wasn’t sure.

Paul hadn’t been bluffing.

***

Later that day, I ran into Paul near the mailboxes.

He must have heard rumors, because his grin had a cruel edge now.

Paul hadn’t been bluffing.

“I know what you’ve been doing, going door to door,” he snapped. “It won’t work. I’m on the board. Whatever little petition you cooked up is worthless.”

“Is it?” I asked calmly.

“You think a bunch of signatures scares me? I make the rules now.”

“Then I guess we’ll find out what those signatures are worth.”

“It won’t work. I’m on the board.”

“I guess we will,” he replied confidently.

A few hours later, the answer was waiting on Paul’s own porch.

***

That evening, Paul pulled his spotless car into his driveway.

He froze halfway to his porch and yelled.

“WHAT IS THAT ON MY PORCH? No, this can’t be happening!”

A few hours later, the answer was waiting on Paul’s own porch.

On his porch sat a large white document box.

An official HOA notice had been fixed across the front in bold letters:

FORMAL DISCIPLINARY REVIEW — BOARD MEMBER CONDUCT

Beneath it were eleven names.